Trapped
by Deana
Summary: When Athos, Porthos, and Aramis transfer a prisoner from New York to Rhode Island, they stay overnight at a seaside hotel to relax before heading home...but trouble strikes in ways that they never expected. (Modern AU taking place after 'Backfired' and 'Internal War'. My entry in the Fete des Mousquetaires contest for August!)
1. Welcome to Newport

.

 **Trapped**  
A musketeer story by Deana  
Modern AU taking place after 'Backfired' and 'Internal War'.  
My Fete des Mousquetaires entry for August!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Achoo!"

"God bless you."

"Thanks. ACHOOOOO!"

"God bless you."

"Thanks." _*sniiiiiif*_

"Are we there yet? I'm sick of hearing that guy sneeze!"

"Shut your mouth or I'll shut it _permanently_!"

"Now, now, Porthos," said Aramis. "I'm sure you're _all_ sick of hearing me sneeze; even the big-mouth criminal back there."

"Whether we all are or not," said Porthos. "That jerk has no right to talk, and once he's in jail, he'll have even _less_ right."

Athos sighed as he drove. Between Aramis' sneezing and the whining from the prisoner they were transporting, he was eager to arrive at their destination. They were just crossing the border from Connecticut into Rhode Island, and he glanced at the GPS to see how much longer the trip would be: fifty minutes, not too bad.

Aramis tried to suppress his sneezes after that. He'd woken with a cold the previous day, and though he kept insisting that he felt all right, the sneezing was increasing more and more as time passed.

Eventually, they approached the Jamestown Bridge and Aramis stared out the front passenger window at the boats in the ocean. If he thought the sight was beautiful, it was surpassed when they drove over the Newport Bridge shortly after. The sun sparkled on the water and the boats and mansions in the distance painted an amazing picture.

Finally, Athos pulled the NYPD's prisoner transport van into the Newport Police Dept and they dropped off the whiner. As they turned to go, Aramis sneezed…right next to the man's ear.

Porthos laughed loudly as they walked out the door. "You did that on purpose!"

Aramis blew his nose. "Of course I did."

Athos shook his head, amused.

After having lunch at Nicholas Pizza—which they all agreed was delicious—they drove to Easton's Beach and stood watching the ocean.

The waves were rough and it was very windy. Seagulls flying overhead kept getting caught in the breeze, suspending in mid-air and drifting backwards slightly before flying harder against the wind to get to where they wanted to go.

"That hurricane is pretty close," Porthos remarked.

Aramis nodded. "Yes, but they're notorious for turning almost at the last minute before striking southern New England. The last official hurricane that made landfall here was Bob in August of 1991."

Athos and Porthos looked at him.

Aramis blinked. "What? You know that meteorology always fascinated me."

"Yeah but to have dates and names of hurricanes that hit a state you don't even live in?" said Porthos.

Aramis shrugged. "I watched The Weather Channel for hours every day growing up. ACHOO!"

Athos looked at him. "How do you feel? Do you want to go to the hotel to rest?"

Aramis wiped his nose. "I'm fine."

Porthos snorted. "Those words will be on his gravestone seventy years from now!"

Aramis looked at him. "I'm gonna live to be a hundred and three? And you know that _how_?"

Porthos threw his arm around his friend's neck. "You'd _better_ make it that far!"

Aramis chuckled.

Eventually, they left to see the famous mansions on Bellevue Ave. Each of them were amazed at the stunning beauty of the centuries-old houses, some of which were valued at hundreds of millions of dollars.

"Too bad d'Artagnan wasn't here to see all this," Porthos remarked.

"He couldn't miss his combat training this week," said Athos.

"We know," said Aramis.

They finally headed to the Newport Harbor Hotel, and once inside his room, Aramis plopped onto the bed.

"Still feeling 'fine'?" Athos asked, sarcastically.

Aramis had a sore throat and his head was aching. "Yup."

Porthos snorted again. He took Aramis' suitcase and headed for the dresser.

"You don't have to do that," Aramis said. "We're leaving tomorrow."

"I know," Porthos said. He put the suitcase on the dresser. "Done! When do you want supper?"

"Is food all you think about?" Aramis mumbled, eyes closed.

"You know it is!"

Aramis chuckled, but it turned into a cough.

"Rest," Athos told him. "We'll order room service when you're ready."

Aramis mumbled an unintelligible reply.

"Text us when you wake up," Porthos said, and they both left.

Aramis woke just over an hour later, and after hearing the unexpected sound of seagulls, he remembered where he was and opened his eyes. He looked towards the balcony doors and watched one land on the rail for a moment before flying away again.

With a yawn that hurt his throat, he reached for his cell phone on the nightstand and texted one word.

 _Blurb_

 _Porthos: Athos, he's awake! Let's eat!_

 _Athos: We'll be right there, Aramis._

Aramis put the phone down and closed his eyes again, reopening them when his door opened to admit his two friends.

"What you wanna eat?" was the first question.

"Steak," Aramis immediately answered.

Porthos was slightly surprised at his answer. "I expected you to say 'chicken soup' because of your cold. I didn't think you'd have that much of an appetite."

Aramis smiled from where he still lay on the bed. "I told you that I'm fine. Besides, the 'soup of the day' is clam chowder, and you know that I can't stand seafood." He sat up and took a menu out of his pocket. "Found this downstairs and read it in the elevator."

Porthos grabbed it to read.

Aramis stood up. "We might as well go to the dining room and treat this like a one-night vacation."

"Are you sure?" said Athos.

"ACHOO! Yup," Aramis replied.

Athos rolled his eyes and they left the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dinner was a pleasant affair, and they went outside afterwards to watch the sunset over the ocean, behind the Newport Bridge. It was a stunning sight, with the choppy waves and the orange and pink hues in the sky.

"What a postcard that would make," said Aramis, aiming his phone to take a picture. He texted it to d'Artagnan and Treville, with 'Wish you were here'.

Porthos looked over his shoulder and laughed.

Just after the sun disappeared below the horizon, Aramis sneezed, shattering the peace.

"Sounds like it's someone's bedtime," said Porthos.

"I'm—"

"Fine; yes yes, we know," said Athos. He shot up an arm and placed his hand on Aramis' forehead.

Aramis backed up. "What are you doing?"

"Your face looks flushed," Athos told him.

"Of course it does; it's very windy, in case you haven't noticed," said Aramis.

Porthos grabbed Aramis' arms from behind, preventing him from moving as Athos again raised his hand.

Aramis squirmed.

"You're like a child," Athos scolded, feeling his forehead again. "Slightly warm."

"Of course I am, it's summer," Aramis argued.

Porthos sighed and shook his head. "You're so stubborn!"

"Well I want to be stubborn _out here_ ," Aramis answered. "Look around us; how can _anyone_ want to go inside?"

Porthos made a show of looking around at the ocean, the bridge, the boats…"You have a point."

Athos rolled his eyes.

Aramis finally conceded to go inside once darkness started to fall, and they all headed into his hotel room.

Porthos turned on the TV, but Aramis kept falling asleep. He didn't remember what they were watching, and he didn't remember when his two friends left, all he knew was that his phone's alarm was suddenly ringing for him to get up.

Aramis was startled from the sound, but sneezed before he even had a chance to take a breath. It made him cough and he sat on the side of the bed blearily as he tried to figure out where he was.

A gust of wind blew through the room, and Aramis remembered that he was in a Rhode Island hotel. The wind made him shiver, and he realized that he didn't need to get up for work after all. He _did_ need to take his thyroid pill, so he stood up to get the bottle out of his suitcase. He coughed and sneezed his way over to it before downing the pill with some water and shuffling over to the balcony doors. The sun had risen but the sky was grey with thick clouds, and another strong gust of wind made him shiver again.

Turning away from the balcony, Aramis went back to bed and was asleep again within minutes.

TBC


	2. Trouble

Whispered voices woke Aramis a couple of hours later, and he opened bleary eyes to find Athos and Porthos in his room, staring out the balcony doors. He took a breath to ask them what was going on, but his lungs protested and he coughed instead. When he reopened his eyes, he found a bottle of water in front of his face.

"What time's it?" he slurred. "Are we late?"

"Drink," Athos' stern voice said. He waited until Aramis took it and obeyed before he spoke again. "We aren't leaving today."

"Why?" Aramis asked.

"First, because you are ill."

"It's just a cold—"

"You have a fever and congestion in your chest," Athos told him. "You know how your lungs get if you don't rest while ill."

They all knew _very_ well. Aramis looked at Porthos, standing behind Athos with his arms crossed as if to say, 'no arguing!'

A sudden gust of wind rattled the balcony doors, and Aramis looked towards them.

"Yeah, that's the _other_ reason," said Porthos. "We're gettin' a hurricane."

Aramis just stared at him for a minute, before his shocked expression was ruined by a sneeze. "You mean…?"

"Yes," said Athos. "It didn't turn and is heading straight for us."

Aramis blinked. "Awesome!" He moved to get out of the bed, but a coughing fit stopped him in his tracks.

Athos picked up the phone to call the front desk. "Do your first aid supplies include cold medicine?"

"Mucinex," Aramis requested, drinking the rest of his water.

"Mucinex," Athos told the woman. "Good. Can you send some to room 316? Thank you."

"We're really getting the hurricane?" said Aramis. "What are the winds?"

"A hundred and fifteen," said Porthos, sounding nervous.

"So it's a category three," said Aramis, surprised. "They usually weaken more than that before reaching southern New England's waters. Put the news on!"

Porthos obeyed, finding hurricane coverage on channel 10. The eye of the hurricane was currently off the coast of New Jersey but the storm was very large, with rain bands just south of RI that would start any moment.

Athos and Porthos were amused to see how enraptured Aramis was as he watched. They knew that their friend had considered becoming a meteorologist for a long time as a teenager, and they wondered if he ever regretted not doing so.

Room service came with Aramis' medicine and their breakfast, and they ate as they continued to watch the news.

"Has anyone spoken to Treville or d'Artagnan?" Aramis asked as he swallowed a piece of toast, wincing slightly when it hurt his throat.

Athos nodded. "Yes. He wasn't surprised at all, remarking that trouble follows us, so why not a hurricane?"

Aramis laughed at that before coughing again.

The weather deteriorated quickly, and rain was soon batting against the balcony door, driven by the ever-increasing wind.

Aramis sat in a chair in front of the balcony for a while, watching with awe as the ocean churned and small objects went flying. Trees were bending with leaves flying off them, and the clouds looked positively angry.

By lunchtime, their cell phones had no signal. Aramis went back to his bed to eat and take another dose of his medicine.

"You're enjoying this far too much," said Porthos, who was still nervous.

Aramis smiled. "There's nothing to worry about, Porthos, the winds have already lowered to one hundred, which is usual for storms that enter the cooler northeast water. This storm is mimicking Hurricane Bob, except that Bob moved faster than this one. Wait till you see what happens when the eye moves over!"

Porthos looked even more nervous at that.

The wind increased as the hurricane came closer and closer, and just before the eye hit, the TV shut off.

"There goes the power!" said Porthos.

"Stop worrying," said Aramis. His words were slurry as he apparently needed sleep but was forcing himself to stay awake.

The absence of the TV noise made the sounds outside seem even more violent. The balcony door sounded like it would shatter in the violence of the wind, and objects could be heard being thrown all over the place. The rain was very heavy and the wind sounded monstrous.

Aramis loved it.

Soon, the sounds seemed to abruptly decrease, and before they knew it, the clouds started to break up and the rain and wind stopped.

"Is it over?" Porthos asked, with relief.

"No," said Aramis, as Athos handed him another bottle of water. "This is the eye!"

The three men watched with amazement as the weather completely changed into a normal summer's day. It seemed almost crazy to realize that soon, the weather would turn violent again.

"This is somethin' I'm never gonna forget," Porthos remarked.

"Neither will I," said Athos.

"I think I'm startin' to see why you're so fascinated with all this, Aramis," Porthos said. "Aramis?"

Both men turned to see their friend's eyes closed, his head tilted slightly to the side on the pillow.

"Aw," said Porthos, with a chuckle. "Couldn't stay awake anymore."

Athos shook his head and they returned their gaze to the window as the total silence ruled.

Silence?

Athos looked at Aramis again, feeling unnerved. He stood and went over to his friend, to see his face looking slightly gray. His left arm was hanging over the bed and the position seemed unnatural. "Aramis?" he said.

No answer.

Athos quickly grabbed his friend's dangling arm and checked his pulse. Aramis' heartbeat was stuttering, beating very irregularly. "Aramis!" he exclaimed.

Porthos jumped up and ran over. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know!" Athos answered. He grabbed the phone to call the front desk for help, forgetting that it was dead. When he remembered that their cell phones didn't work either, a thrill of fear clutched his heart.

There was no way to call for an ambulance.

"Why's his heart doin' that?!" Porthos exclaimed, terrified.

Athos had no answer, and he suddenly saw the thyroid pills and cold medicine standing next to each other on the nightstand. He grabbed the Mucinex and quickly read it. "Ask a doctor before use if you have thyroid disease," he said aloud.

"So this is a drug interaction?!" Porthos exclaimed.

"It seems to be," said Athos. He reached over to tap Aramis' face in an attempt to wake him up. "Go downstairs and find out if there's any doctors in the hotel!"

Porthos hesitated, afraid to leave his friend who could be dying, but he ran off to obey, knowing that time was of the essence.

"Aramis," Athos said, patting his face. "Aramis, wake up!"

His sick friend didn't react.

A few minutes later, Porthos returned with terrible news. "No doctors! How is he?"

"The same," Athos said. "We'll have to take him to a hospital ourselves."

"In _that_?!" said Porthos.

Athos looked towards the balcony doors, to see that the hurricane's eye had completely passed over and the bad weather had returned.

"How can anyone drive in winds of a hundred?!" said Porthos.

He was right. Athos rubbed a hand down his face in dismay, before trying to wake Aramis again.

Porthos grabbed the bottle of water on the nightstand. "Maybe drinking will dilute the medicine?"

"Possibly," Athos said, tapping their friend's face. "Aramis, _wake up_!" He gave him a harder slap.

Aramis gasped and moved his head.

"Aramis!" said Porthos. "Drink this!"

"Porthos, slow down!" said Athos. He placed a calming hand on Aramis' chest. "Don't move; the Mucinex is interacting with your thyroid pill."

Aramis blinked at them, breathing heavily as his heart skipped around. "What?"

"You must remain calm," Athos told him. "The two medicines are interacting and affecting your heartbeat."

Aramis said nothing, still breathing heavily. He could feel his heart going haywire, and he closed his eyes as he tried to take a deep breath.

"Nonono, Aramis, stay with us!" said Porthos, grasping his arm.

Aramis reopened his eyes. "I'm here," he weakly said. He suddenly felt the urge to cough and tried to hold it in, not knowing how it would affect his heart. He felt a sneeze coming a moment later, and knew that there was no way to prevent it.

When Aramis suddenly sneezed, Porthos nearly fainted. "Don't sneeze!" he irrationally said. "What if it stopped your heart?"

Aramis was nervous enough without needing to hear that. He saw the bottle of water and motioned for them to give it to him.

Athos took it from Porthos and held it to Aramis' lips so he could drink. Once finished, he handed the empty bottle back to Porthos, who simply tossed it over his shoulder to land wherever it may.

"Do you have any chest pain?" Athos asked.

Aramis nodded. "A little…feels strange…tight…heavy."

"You don't think it caused a heart attack, do you?!" Porthos asked Athos.

"I don't know," Athos answered. "Aramis, there's no way to get you to a hospital and no doctors in this hotel. What should we do?"

Aramis shook his head, knowing that his life was in God's hands. "Pray."

So they did.

TBC


	3. Remain Calm

Each minute felt like an hour as Athos and Porthos remained sitting on Aramis' bed, facing him and gripping his wrists to monitor his erratic pulse.

Aramis was conscious, but his skin looked grayish and his breathing was nearly as irregular as his heartbeat. "I didn't think," he suddenly said.

"About what?" Athos asked.

"That there could be…an interaction." He paused to take a breath. "I always…" He stopped and glanced at the bottles on the nightstand.

"You always take Mucinex, we know," Porthos said. "You haven't been taking the thyroid pill for very long; people don't always think of things like that." A stronger gust of wind blew outside, sounding like the worst one so far. "How much longer should the storm continue?" he asked.

Aramis shook his head slightly. "Hard to say…not as long as…before the eye…most likely."

"That went on for more than five hours," said Athos.

Aramis said nothing, closing his eyes suddenly.

Both Porthos and Athos felt their friend's heart give a double beat and then a skip.

"Hey! Open those eyes!" Porthos exclaimed, reaching over to tap his face.

Aramis did, inhaling a shuddering breath.

Porthos nervously looked towards the window. "A hurricane here after twenty-six years; why _now_ , of all times!"

"I'm okay," Aramis weakly said.

At that, Porthos dropped his face into one hand.

After another frightening half-hour, with Aramis sneezing five times and having three coughing fits, his labored breathing seemed to get a little easier.

"Your heart is still wrong, but it hasn't skipped a beat in three minutes," Porthos said. "Do you think the effects are starting to wear off?"

"Possibly," Aramis answered.

All three of them waited with bated breath for the next skip, which came only seconds later.

"Spoke too soon," Porthos mumbled.

"Just remain calm and keep still," Athos told Aramis.

Aramis nodded and closed his eyes.

"Eyes open!" Porthos said, nervously.

Aramis obeyed.

The hurricane continued to rage around them, and they could hear the destruction being wrought.

"All those boats," Aramis suddenly said. "Such a shame…"

The other two knew exactly what he meant: whoever had managed to get their boat out of the water in time was lucky…the rest of them were likely being thrown all over the place.

Thunder rolled intermittently, and each startling sound outside made Porthos inwardly cringe at the effect that it was having on their friend's heart.

Aramis closed his eyes again, and Porthos squeezed his wrist. "Look at us," he said.

"I'm tired," Aramis told him, eyes still closed.

"But if you fall asleep, you might not wake up!" Porthos exclaimed.

Aramis opened his eyes. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Athos told him. "This isn't your fault. If anyone is to blame, it's me."

The others both looked at him.

"I'm the one who asked them to send up the medicine," said Athos, looking contrite.

"It's not your fault that he got sick," said Porthos. "And _he's_ the one who picked the Mucinex; the stuff that he's used to. For all we know, _most_ cold medicines might have whatever it is that's affecting his heart. We'll have to do research to find out what's safe for him to take the next time."

Athos nodded at that, but before anyone could say anything else, the balcony door suddenly shattered.

All three men were startled, with Aramis giving a gasp that set off a coughing fit.

Porthos reached over to grab his shoulder. "Take it easy!" He could feel Aramis' heartbeat immediately speed up into a crazy dance.

Athos rushed over to the balcony doors to find that a piece of wood had gone through one side of the glass. It appeared to have come from one of the docks, and he pulled the blind open, ducking for a second against the monstrous wind and rain. He picked up the piece of wood and tossed it into the corner of the room, before closing the blind again and grabbing the armoire against the wall. He pushed it in front of the broken door and hurried back to the bed.

Aramis' eyes were closed as he breathed very heavily; his irregular heartbeat making it difficult.

"We need a different room," said Porthos.

"But it's not safe to move him," Athos replied.

Porthos growled. "We can't just sit here and leave him like this!"

Aramis turned his hand, dislodging Porthos' fingers from his wrist so he could grasp his friend's arm. "I'm not dying."

Porthos opened his mouth to say, 'how do we know that?!' but stopped himself. They had to keep Aramis calm, and he wasn't doing a good job of that at the moment.

"Once the storm is over, we'll get him to a hospital," Athos told Porthos. "And then he'll be fine."

"Yes," Aramis said, sounding breathless. "Fine."

Porthos could only nod and placed his fingers back on his friend's pulse.

Another hour passed, and the winds began to weaken. They grew hopeful that the storm would end soon.

"The second half of a hurricane moves through faster," Aramis told them.

He appeared to be correct, for an hour after that, the wind had dramatically lessened.

"I'll go find help," Athos told Porthos. "It would be safer for Aramis to get to the hospital in an ambulance."

Porthos nodded.

"Be careful," Aramis told him. It was still extremely windy and dangerous outside.

Athos nodded and squeezed his shoulder. "I will, don't worry."

Aramis gave him a slight smile.

Athos left the room and hurried downstairs, finding that the front door had been broken as well. He went outside and looked around to ensure that nothing was about to fall on him, and then he started to walk. He saw many people outside surveying the damage, even through the gusty wind, and he headed towards them.

As he approached, he heard what sounded like a police scanner. "Excuse me!" he said.

The people turned around…and one of them was holding a walkie-talkie.

"I'm Athos de la Fere from the NYPD," he told them. "I need an ambulance sent to the hotel for a heart patient!"

The cop immediately radioed the station, and a relieved Athos hurried back to his friends.

It took twenty minutes for the ambulance to get through, and the paramedics hooked Aramis up to a heart monitor and inserted an IV before placing him on the stretcher and getting him out of the hotel. They let Athos and Porthos ride with him, and one of the medics radioed the station to send a message to the NYPD to notify Captain Treville of what had happened.

An hour later, Athos and Porthos paced in the waiting room as the doctors ran tests on Aramis. They'd admitted him to the ICU, but that was all that they'd been told. They found out from the information desk that he was listed as being in 'serious' condition, which was frightening but understandable, as no one with an irregular heartbeat could be considered 'stable'.

"At least they're not calling him 'critical'," said Athos.

Porthos nodded, with a sigh.

Another half-hour passed and the two friends were barely containing their anxiety. Just when Porthos was about to demand answers from someone, _anyone_ , two unexpected people walked into the door. Porthos just stared at them for a minute, trying to figure out how Treville and d'Artagnan had managed to get to Newport considering that the bridge had been closed.

"We came by helicopter," Treville told them, understanding the confusion on Porthos' face. "How is he?"

"We don't know yet!" Porthos exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. "We keep askin', but all we know is that he's in serious condition in the ICU."

"Oh _no_!" said d'Artagnan.

"He was conscious and talking before we got him here," Athos told them. "They're running tests on him now."

It was only five minutes later when a doctor came to speak to them. "Detective d'Herblay is holding his own," he told them. "His heart developed atrial fibrillation because the phenylephrine in the Mucinex reacted with his thyroid disease. The dosage of the levothyroxine he takes is too high, which lowered his TSH level too much and accidentally swung him into a _hyper_ thyroid state."

"What!" Porthos exclaimed.

"His doctor gave him too much medicine?" d'Artagnan said with astonishment.

The doctor shook his head. "It's not how it sounds. With the thyroid, it often takes months to get the dosage right. He told me that his doctor raised his dosage a month ago; does anyone know if he has an upcoming appointment?"

"Yes, this Monday," Athos said.

The doctor nodded. "If this hadn't happened today, his next blood test would've shown his TSH to be too low and his doctor would've simply lowered the dosage."

"So the drug in the medicine only reacts with people who have _hyper_ , not hypo?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Yes," said the doctor. "Phenylephrine is a stimulant, and since hyperthyroidism speeds the body up, it's dangerous to take cold medicines."

"Is the atrial fibrillation permanent?" Treville asked.

The doctor shook his head. "It shouldn't be, especially in someone as young as him. Once the drug is completely out of his system, the heart usually reverts back to normal sinus rhythm. It shouldn't take more than two days."

"Without damage?" Athos asked.

"Usually, yes."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"Can we see him?" Porthos asked.

The doctor nodded and they followed him down the hall.

TBC


	4. Arggggh

When they reached Aramis' room, they found him reclined partially upright, awake and alert. There were heart monitor wires sticking out the neck of his hospital gown and an oxygen cannula under his nose…the sight reminded them of his recently near-fatal car accident.

"One of these days, you're gonna give _me_ a heart attack," Treville told him.

"I didn't have a heart attack," Aramis answered.

Treville smiled and put a hand on Aramis' arm. "Thank God."

Everyone's eyes were drawn to the heart monitor, which was bouncing around in a sometimes-creepy manner.

"How do you feel?" Porthos asked.

"Fine," Aramis predictably answered. He sneezed immediately after.

Everyone sighed, expecting that answer.

"I've taken Mucinex before too," said d'Artagnan. "I had no idea that something like this could happen."

"I feel like a fool," said Aramis, looking away from them.

"Why?" Porthos asked. "You had no idea that your thyroid went in the other direction. The doctor said it's common because it takes time to get the medicine dosage right."

"And people don't think to read labels on something that they've used before," said Treville. "Forget about that and just rest."

Aramis sighed, but nodded. Suddenly he gasped and started to raise his hand to his chest, but quickly lowered it so as not to alarm anyone.

The others noticed anyway, and quickly looked at the heart monitor when the sound changed. The spiking line started dancing again, and the number shot up to 155.

"Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed, in shock to see such a high number.

Aramis' breathing increased along with his heartbeat. "I'm...fine."

Porthos grabbed his hand and they watched him with alarm, barely noticing when a woman entered the room.

The nurse checked Aramis' oxygen level and turned it up a little. "He'll be fine," she told the others. "This is expected."

D'Artagnan wondered how she could be so calm, and stared at Aramis' pale face as his breathing tried to keep up with his racing heart.

After what seemed like a year, the number started to drop and eventually hovered between 115 and 120.

Aramis hadn't realized that he'd been clutching Porthos' hand in a death-grip until Porthos squeezed his and said, "You okay?"

Aramis tried to take a deep breath and relaxed against the pillow. "Yeah," he said, his voice sounding rough.

The same thing happened four more times within the space of a half-hour, and Aramis' friends didn't know how on earth he was dealing with it.

"You must be ready to—" D'Artagnan cringed when he'd almost said 'die'. "—scream by now!"

Aramis sighed. "It's not fun. Well, maybe it was the _first_ time, because it was so weird." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

Athos snorted. "Only _you_ could call something like that 'fun'."

Night fell quickly, and none of the other four men budged from Aramis' side. Each time his heart had an episode, they each feared that it would simply stop, despite assurances from the doctor that it wouldn't.

The situation was taking an obvious toll on Aramis, who grew paler and exhausted. Every time he dropped off to sleep, it'd only last minutes before his erratic heartbeat woke him.

"Argggggh," he whined after an episode at four o'clock in the morning. He was so tired that his eyes were only half open as he tried to slow his breathing down.

His four friends sat in chairs on either side of the bed, also tired but not leaving him to deal with it alone.

"Not much longer," Treville said, squeezing his arm. "Tomorrow or the day after, you'll be out of here and it'll be like this never happened."

"When we get back to New York, I'm goin' through your medicine cabinet," Porthos suddenly said.

Aramis' eyes slipped shut. Normally he would give some witty reply, but he was too worn out. "Thanks," he whispered.

Everyone watched as he fell asleep, each of them hoping that Aramis' heart would finally let him rest.

To everyone's relief, he managed to sleep through the next episode—which wasn't as bad, from what they saw on the heart monitor—and he didn't wake from the two that followed, either.

"You don't think he's unconscious, do you?" d'Artagnan suddenly asked.

All four of them looked at each other with alarm, but they were reluctant to try waking Aramis, in case he was finally getting some quality rest.

Athos left to find the doctor, who came back with them and quietly checked Aramis over before he told them that Aramis was likely asleep, which was what he needed.

Three whole hours passed before Aramis woke, when a phlebotomist came to draw some blood. She apologized profusely and was quick, patting him on the arm before she left.

Aramis still looked exhausted, and didn't even have a chance to speak before another episode took over his heart and he winced. After it faded away, he surprised everyone by saying, "I wanna go home."

Aramis was well-known to downplay his condition, always saying that he was fine when he wasn't and doing whatever he could to prevent the others from worrying about him. His statement spoke volumes, showing fear that he always easily hid.

The others didn't blame him at all for being scared; they were terrified.

"You'll be out of here in no time," Treville told him. "Try to sleep."

Aramis sighed and closed his tired eyes.

The day passed slowly. As each episode with Aramis' heart ended, they wondered how long it would be before the next one. He slept on and off through the day, with Porthos eating most of his food when meals came, as Aramis wasn't very hungry. He was still feverish from his cold and continued to sneeze and cough, but the doctor didn't want to give him any drugs while his heartbeat was still irregular.

Later that evening, Aramis fell asleep and his friends sat quietly, fighting sleep themselves but unable to get any rest while Aramis' heart continued it's odd dance. They eventually realized that though Aramis' heartbeat was still irregular, time was passing with no 'flip out' episode, as Porthos had taken to calling it. Aramis continued to sleep, and soon, an hour had passed.

"Do you think it's going away?" d'Artagnan whispered to Athos.

"We can only hope," Athos replied.

Aramis remained out like a light, and his heart had a minor episode an hour later that he slept through. Finally, at just after ten o'clock, the heart monitor abruptly changed into a perfectly regular pattern.

All four men drowsily stared at it for a moment, unsure of what they were seeing. The line was moving up and down the way it should be, at eighty-five beats per minute.

Porthos was the first person to react. "Look!"

They all watched as the normal heartbeat continued, and d'Artagnan quickly let the room to find the doctor.

TBC


	5. Normal

When Aramis woke, he found all four of his friends slumped in their chairs, eye closed. He wasn't surprised that their exhaustion had caught up to them, and he hesitantly looked at his heart monitor, dreading what he would see.

"Not what you expected," came a voice.

Aramis stared at his perfect heartbeat, nearly unable to believe it. "It's over?"

Athos nodded, standing from his chair to stretch cramped muscles. "Yes. It's been beating normally since 10 last night."

Aramis looked at the clock on the wall and was surprised to find that it was nearly 8am. "I slept long."

"Very long," Athos agreed. "How are you feeling, and don't say 'fine'."

Aramis assessed himself. He still had a headache and a minor sore throat from his cold, but there was no more pain in his chest and he could finally breathe correctly. "Much better," he answered.

Athos smiled.

A sneeze erupted from Aramis, who didn't have time to suppress it before it woke the others.

"He's awake!" Porthos exclaimed.

Everyone else stood and crowded around the bed.

"Before you ask, I'm much better," Aramis told them.

"The doctor said you can leave today," d'Artagnan said.

Aramis smiled. "I'm ready!"

They waited impatiently for the doctor to return, and it was an hour later when he finally did. He examined Aramis and pronounced him fit to go.

"I would stop taking your thyroid pill and see your regular doctor," said the doctor. "I wouldn't take anything else if I were you either; drugs can linger in the body, and we want to make sure there's no more Mucinex in your bloodstream first. You can take Tylenol if you need it, but nothing else."

Aramis nodded.

The doctor gave the others strict instructions to make Aramis take it easy, and soon, he was dressed and being pushed down the halls in a wheelchair.

"Déjà vu," Porthos remarked, remembering when Aramis had finally left the hospital after his recent car accident.*

"You can say _that_ again," said Aramis.

"Déjà vu," Porthos repeated.

Aramis chuckled, before suddenly looking at Treville. "How did _you_ get here? The hurricane closed the bridge."

"Helicopter," Treville told him. "An officer met us when we landed and brought us here. They'll be our ride back to the hotel."

Just as he said, there was a Newport Police SUV waiting for them at the door, and Porthos helped Aramis get in.

Aramis hadn't yet seen the hurricane's destruction, and he stared out the window the whole ride back. When they arrived, Porthos helped him out again and kept a supportive arm around his shoulders, able to tell that Aramis was a little weak.

"We can't head back to New York until they reopen the bridge," Aramis suddenly realized.

"Unless you're up to flying," said Treville. "Though, the high altitude might not be safe for you after what just happened."

Once back inside, the hotel was all-too eager to give them anything they wanted free of charge, not wanting to risk a lawsuit over the Mucinex. Minutes later, Aramis was standing at the balcony doors in an undamaged room. It was surreal to see the sunny sky and calm ocean behind the damaged marina.

"You should be lying down," Athos said, standing behind him.

Aramis glanced back at him. "How quickly things can change," he said. "One minute everything seems beautiful, and an hour later everything is upside down."

Athos nodded, knowing that his friend wasn't just talking about the weather.

"Aramis," said Porthos. "Look what's on TV."

Aramis turned to see that 'Star Wars: The Force Awakens' was just starting, and he turned away from the balcony, not surprised when Athos took his arm to assist him. He climbed onto the middle of the bed and tiredly closed his eyes, immediately falling asleep to the familiarity of his friends, his favorite movie, and most importantly: his normal heartbeat.

THE END

'Backfired': storyid 12486920


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